Song meme: drabbles
by Lingering
Summary: Eight drabbles inspired by my playlist put on shuffle; various universes: mainly G1, some Shattered Glass and TFA; assorted pairings implied. -Optimus/Starscream, TC/Warp, Optimus/Hot Rod, Prowl/Jazz etc.- Rating may vary but all snippets are safe enough.


**Title**: Eight untitled drabbles  
**Rating:** all pretty tame but I'll throw in a warning for passing mentions of intimacy.  
**Characters/Pairings:** Various pairings implied _(Optimus/Starscream, Optimus/Hot Rod, TC/Warp, Prowl/Jazz, etc.)_  
**Warnings and Disclaimers: **implied character death in the very last one.  
**Universe:** All G1 save for a couple (Shattered Glass, TFA)

As per rules of the original LJ song meme (I know, I'm about one year late to join the bandwagon), the drabbles were inspired by my playlist put on shuffle (although I allowed myself to continue/finish them up a little after the songs had ended).

(Inspiration song) [Continuity, Characters]

* * *

1. (Madonna - Intervention) [G1: Prime, Prowl]

Those who knew him, even just a little, would assure you he wouldn't be so reckless as to cultivate an affair (and oh, how he resented that word) in times of desperation, danger and war.

Those who knew him well could have blindly sworn that he wouldn't, despite his magnanimity, chance a relationship with someone from the opponent faction, nor keep it secret from his friends, comrades, underlings.

But those who knew him best, and one of them was dwelling on the troublesome thought just then, would have to infer that, pure sentimental spark that he was, if he'd done both things he had to have a very good reason.

And regardless of this reason's name or allegiance, Prowl mused, his gaze weary and pensive lingering on his commander, there was no doubt that the kind Prime thought himself to be in love. Unwise. So unlike him. Or was it?

The tactician was all but enthusiastic about the result of his deductions, because the voluble matters of the spark were a constant unknown, one more variable to consider whenever dealing with the Prime himself or his decisions. But this, too, was his duty: to keep watch and make sure his leader stayed himself, for the cause and for his own safety.

He'd wait a little longer before inquiring about this, watching from the sidelines, unless his intervention became necessary.

_To protect and serve_; the small letters shone dimly when he slid from the corner to the clear corridor, datapads in hand and secure stride, approaching Optimus.

-

2. (Yearning - Mono) [Shattered Glass: Optimus/Starscream]

A dark, firm hand pressed on the small of his back, more caging than affectionate, the opposite of an embrace. The large purple form was strangely still in half-recharge, merging with the shadows of the dimly lit quarters; just a few glints of moonlight bounced off the scarred metal, so that sharp edges and blunt plates was all that could be seen of him. Of them.

Tracing the jagged edges of an old crack in a dark windshield, the rest of his body perfectly still not to cause any noise, the noble flier mused, unable to recharge and unwilling to do so within proximity of the bigger mech, despite the act that had just occurred between them.

Right now, even _he_ looked somewhat less dangerous, in recharge. Or rather in vigilant slumber, for the voices and screeches spiraling in his twisted processor were too many to let him properly rest, and the white form he held close was still that of an enemy. Subjugated but not enslaved, unreasonably proud and yet willing, the riddle of a prey reaching for your hand by its own volition instead of being forced by simple violence.

Starscream knew all this, and revelled in knowing that he still retained the call of contradiction, a speckle of mysteriousness; keeping the other wondering meant keeping himself safe; he was painfully aware of the fact that he was playing with his own life, betting it again and again during those blissful, twisted 'Arabian nights', his keen scientific mind offering plenty of reasons to stop these meetings and fly as far away as he could. One misplaced word and those too-powerful hands could snap a main fuel line, dig too far into his chamber and snuff out his ember for good. And yet… he was here, trapped against him, and not by those strong arms alone.

_This yearning makes no rational sense._  
Why did he keep coming back to this? There was nothing here.  
Nothing but raw heat and stabbing regrets, the mild panic when he flinched slightly, every time his ember met the scorching heat of the other, when his mind brushed against a consciousness swirling and twisting darkly, the broken remains of the mech that _was_.

He returned, even if doing this to his comrades sickened him every time he allowed his thoughts to dwell on it, even if he knew he'd most likely end up destroyed, sooner or later, by the very object of his need.

He came back, for he'd once (barely, timidly, and only to himself) admitted he might have loved who this mech used to be, and couldn't completely force himself to forget.  
But the new mech, the one that was not Optimus Prime, the mockery of perfection, had finally seen it in his ember, caught the tail of that laughable loving thought.

Carefully hidden, quickly dismissed, obsessively doubted by Starscream himself again and again, but it hadn't been enough: Prime's ember was nothing but _thorough_ when laying claims over his.

This time, he'd done it.  
(_Exposed. Foolish. Shameful. He'll kill me._)  
He'd seen it, he'd let him see.

And Prime had laughed.  
A rough, rich laugh, leaning his masked face against Starscream's neck.  
Even as the charge of overload sung and rippled through his wiring, washing through his frame and travelling to his wavering, confused, fatally addicted ember, he'd felt cold.

-

3. (Dido - Here with me) [G1: Rodimus]

"I hate it here." He'd thought it countless times, huddled on the dingy bunk in a corner of his room. Rather, Prime's room. A Prime's quarters, and they'd never felt his at all. The shadows in the corners seemed to always grow longer more quickly in such a wide space, and the amount of items cluttering it didn't seem to help the feeling of emptiness. It was etched into the walls.

The only thing that prevented him from slamming the door behind himself and never returning (and oh, Magnus would be so disappointed, but there was a stinging certainty always lurking in the back of his processor that he _already_ was, and nothing could be done to fix that) was the warmth of the Matrix, the comforting, steady pulse coming from somewhere deeper inside him, inside _it_, or even further beyond.

"Why do you support me, even if I'm nothing like the leader you were?"  
_Click._ Chestplates splitting just slightly, and he travelled one shaky finger along the edge of the treasured artefact nestled inside his chassis.

There was no answer, but the blue light shimmered, warming him from the inside.

-

4. (Michelle Branch - All you wanted) [G1: Hot Rod]

At some point in time, he'd lost sight of the figure of authority to focus on the mech; admiration had easily slipped into adoration, and then further.

Even if he didn't quite understand it, he had found himself shamelessly seeking his company, chattering and bragging, pushing and asking, anything to fill the little awkward silences and draw out their exchanges as much as he could.

It seemed like an eternity since he'd asked, with the eagerness of a child, "What do you want?" And unspoken, _what can I give?_

And it'd felt so good, so reassuring, to be wanted for what he was. He was still Hot Rod back then, no weight on his spark, no sacred artefact mingling with it, no worry other than surviving this war and showing what he was capable of.

-

5. (Madonna - Nothing fails) [G1: TC/Warp]

_Click._  
_Click._  
_Click._  
"Stop it, 'Warp."  
And Skywarp stopped, pouting like a sparkling, and took his hands away from his friend's ailerons. His boredom was glaring obvious, but Thundercracker was too slagging tired to indulge him. In a moment, Skywarp would whine, storm off and teleport back later that night, to snuggle into him when he thought he'd be deep in recharge.

TC was used to it, all of it. Used to the black seeker warping into his room whenever he felt like it, without asking, and used to him always claiming way more than half of Thundercracker's berth, in order to lay shamelessly sprawled in what, he pointedly explained, was the only comfortable position to recharge in.

And even if he snapped at the black jet at every given chance, genuinely annoyed or secretly amused, he wouldn't have changed him for a smarter, less obnoxious mech (no matter what he said when they fought, and it happened so often _Starscream_ himself had inquired about the state of their relationship).

That was Skywarp, after all, teleportation and bad jokes and a hidden, reluctant neediness he'd had a hard time telling apart from mere clinging.  
They fit him.

-

6. (Nelly Furtado - Try) [G1: Starscream, Optimus Prime]

Starscream's been observing, out of pure scientific interest and a little boredom. His stay in the Ark has been uneventful, his access to the labs restricted, no matter how vehemently he'd pointed out how the Autobot research team sorely needed the extra help. He's not allowed near dangerous materials (and knowing the resident scientists, _everything_ inside said labs has a high chance of exploding), and his presence is not 'required' on the battlefield, as Prime put it. The Autobots didn't ask him to fight nor to wear their colours, out of some misplaced regard, and he hasn't brought it up. Yet.

So he's been looking around, rediscovering his keen sense of observation and secretly enjoying very much to find it dusty but not rusty, a tinge of quickly dismissed nostalgia for his explorer days poking its head out.

Many things can be said about the Autobot leader, more or less flattering, (and leave it to Starscream to come up with plenty of the latter), but he certainly makes for an interesting subject of analysis.

He's unyielding, he will never waver. The calm determination to do his best is there for everyone to see, his spark won't stop striving for his ideals till the last pulse.

But sometimes, Starscream's trained, inspecting gaze can catch a glimpse, far away, of the breaking point. He's learned to pinpoint the invisible details, and tell with scary accuracy just when the Prime's spark will flicker; weary, tired, numb. Doubting not his cause, never his ideals, but himself.

And it's during those days that he makes a point to barge into the commander's office, quarters or even his personal space when he's simply sitting in the rec room; he'll be obnoxiously loud and demanding, requiring all of Prime's attention with no room for argument, knowing very well he won't be denied.

Because what Optimus needs is an exuberant distraction that'll keep him busy, and Starscream is an expert at being one, although it'd never occurred to him to pride himself on something this trivial.

He's not doing it out of altruism, certainly not; he'd put his time to better use if that were the case. But this is a perfect, legitimate excuse to be terribly annoying and get away with it with a smug sense of self-righteousness (instead of the usual stingy disappointment at the lack of reaction), and while he usually doesn't _need_ an excuse to do so, he won't pass up on the chance of feeling good about himself for being a complete and utter _slagger_.

-

7. (Disney- Mulan Soundtrack - I'll make a man out of you) [TFA: Jetstorm, Jetfire]

It was exciting. It was entertaining. It was everything they'd dreamed of, and Jetstorm found himself thinking (in those rare moments in which he wasn't too busy bickering, fighting or grappling with his brother) that they'd been awakened from some weird stasis to the real world.

He couldn't help that little suspicion, though... that they were deluding themselves, dragged forward by their enthusiasm and the new, unexpected possibilities opened before their very optics.

"They value us" Jetfire had murmured, in awe, the first night they'd spent in the Elite Guard headquarters in the new room they shared, cleaner and neater than any place they'd ever recharged in. "We are someone now, aren't we? We're finally someone!"

In front of those huge, twinkling optics, Jetstorm hadn't felt like voicing his doubts. "Or on the way to get there" he'd conceded, returning his twin's grin.

"Let's get down to business", barks the instructor with the ridiculously huge chin when they show up the morning after. Jetstorm knows Jetfire will have at least five bad jokes about that chin in the space of a few breems, and grins to himself, getting in position for the training.

_We may just be your little tools now. But soon, very soon we'll be big shots you'll have to respect._  
He winks to his twin from beneath his visor, knowing Jetfire can sense it, if not see it.  
_And there's nothing wrong with having loads of fun in the meantime._

_-  
_

8. (Enya – Requiem) [Movieverse: Prowl/Jazz]

"I understand."  
And that had been it.

Prowl would not, could not voice anything but that dull, simple acknowledgement, because he'd not allow himself time for mourning. He'd rather cling to practical matters in times such as these - when everything else faded in the background.

Prime's hand, apologetic in its soft touch, always blaming himself as he was, descended on his arm, a promise of support, the unspoken offer of leaving him as much time as he needed.  
Prowl gently shook it off, optics flashing a cold blue, almost offended. "Thank you", he respectfully murmured. "I wish to go back to work."

* * *

A/N: I'm mostly experimenting (especially with settings and characterization) and trying to get warmed up to writing again; do feel free to point out if you spot any mistake. Thanks =)


End file.
